


This is the way

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [44]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jaime admires Brienne's body, Love Confessions, Missing Scene, Passionate Sex, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: When Cersei calls Brienne an "ugly cow", Jaime can't stand it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	This is the way

**Author's Note:**

> I took the line from "The Mandalorean" and tweaked it to suit my need. And the result is this.

Not knowing where else to go, he pounds on her door like his life depends on it.

The more he thinks about it, the more unbearable Jaime finds it. The longer he has to wait for her, the shorter his breath gets. Will she even let him in at this ungodly hour? And even if she does, what is he going to say to her? What will she make of it? His inner-conundrum is thankfully cut short when the door swings open and the homely face he has, at another time, minced no words in criticizing, peers into his, those usually clear blue eyes veiled by questions at his unannounced appearance.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, before she can ask.

“If I were you, I’d have taken a walk to soothe my mind,” Brienne suggests, but backs away, nevertheless, to let him in.

He steps into her more than adequate chambers. “I _have been_ taking a walk. One that has led me here.”

“I meant the fresh air.” Her eyes ease down into something comforting. “What bothers you, Ser Jaime?”

“Cersei called you an ugly cow,” he spits it out without preparing her, but other than a slight tightness in her shoulders, he can measure no response. It doesn’t appear to trouble her as much as it torments him. “She thinks you and I—” He takes a moment to put it together in his head. _Whore,_ it was, his sister’s exact word, but he shoves it aside, kicks it off his mind, for the more he dwells on it, the harder his heart starts to race away towards danger. “She’s stumbled across some rumours alleging that I lay with you.”

Something crosses the pale face and she turns away, heads for the window instead of facing him and the insults he’s here to bear the unpleasant tidings of. “Tell her it isn’t true then.”

“I did,” he goes on, “but she refused to believe me, and when I started to argue in your defence, she—”

“—insulted me further.” Her hand glides restlessly along the window sill. “Called me the _Kingslayer’s whore_ like most others.”

Cursing in his mind the ones who first sparked off such scandalous stories about her, he joins her at the other end of the room. “I told her off, wench.” Her back to him, he can’t make out what’s in those eyes. Trust in him, he hopes, that he’d never let her down, never let another speak ill of her.

She doesn’t comment, but her body responds. Her back tenses when she inhales deeply, her fingers tap absently at where they’re resting.

“I—” He lays his hand on her shoulder, waits with bated breath for some sign that tells him to fuck off, but when her breathing begins to pick up, when she tilts slightly into his touch, he wills himself to step closer. “I can’t have her or anyone else insult you, my lady.”

“You copiously criticized me once.” Her free hand grips the drapes. “You called me a mule, a giant toe-headed plank—”

“And it hurt you, still stings,” he whispers, wishing he could turn back time and do better. “It bothers me, too. Keeps me awake many nights. If it were anyone else in her place I’d have wrung their neck for their insolence.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I haven’t lain with her since my return, Brienne.” He leans, gently exhales down the nape of her neck until goosebumps spring up to decorate the smooth skin. “And I don’t intend to ever again. Because—” 

_That is not the way,_ he wants to admit, but his voice crumbles away.

“Brienne—” 

He plants one light kiss to her neck, then another, and when a sigh escapes her, he slides his hand down her arm, wraps his stump around her waist. “I can’t think of anyone else I want this with,” he breathes, edging closer, pressing his growing cock against her firm ass. “Anyone but—” 

“Nor can I,” she quietly agrees, letting go, leaning back into him when he softly nips at her earlobe. He works his hand under her shirt, feeling her, stroking her warm skin, and when works his way up to the breasts he’s always fantasized about palming and caressing, she gives in with a throaty noise of anticipation. “Jaime—”

“ _Yes_ , my lady.” 

No bloody _ser_ this time. No more fucking formalities. No pretence this night. A strangled objection he meets with when he lets go of her nipple to treat his fingers to her hair. When her impatient sigh tells him to get on, he pulls her head back and turns it slightly to take her mouth in a brief kiss. A short gasp, she surrenders with, her mouth seeking more, but he breaks away, ending it, much to the annoyance in her eyes, with a slight nibble of her bottom lip. 

He steps back, gazes at her in admiration—the eyes that once burned with loathing now bear lust and affection for him, the full lips that once had nought but harsh words for him now tremble away in desire and anticipation, looking forward to the incessant shower of his kisses. The breasts he’d once made a subject of his scorn are far more enticing than any well-endowed beauty’s, those nipples, pointy and pushing through her thin shirt, waiting to be satisfied. He’s so fucking taken in by her as much as he’d once been disgusted. 

He can’t resist devouring her, but that can wait. He has the whole night to do this the way it should be done.

Together, they rid her of her shirt, and when those teats reveal themselves, he’s struck by a sweeping urge to swoop down on them and suck them until she’s shuddering and panting in his arms. Her pants make their clumsy descent to the floor, and when she’s all there for him, wet and inviting, all he wants is to ram into her and fuck her senseless.

But _no_ , that is not the way. To pleasure her is the way.

This time, however, when their mouths meet, they do not stop. He drinks thirstily from those lips, and she pushes back, answers every thrust of his tongue with a move of her own. Passionate and wild, they burn together as their frantic kissing heats up, sets ablaze not just them but the room around them. Her hands grip his shirt, fumble with his laces as she plunges in deeper, and he gives her what she wants, what he wants no different from it. A soft moan, and he wants more. A frantic tugging of his shirt, the impatience in those fingers to rip it off his chest, and he wants her all over him, wants to be the man she wants him to be.

He lets go to let her do as she pleases, only too happy to help her when she detaches his golden arm and tosses it aside. He raises his hands, and together, they get his intrusive garment off. Never having touched a man like this before, she takes him in with a heated gaze, runs her fingers along his hair-splashed chest, taking her time, and like him, savouring every goose-bump that sprouts out of her touch, every bit of hair she manages to raise to an erection. She lets her hand wander down to his waist, then further, and when she stops short of his bulge, he bends to devour her nipples. Perked up, unyielding, able enough to cut glass, they harden further in his mouth. 

With every twirl of his tongue, he takes her a little farther. With every lick and every nibble, he tells her she’s the one.

When he hoists her up to seat her on the window sill, he lets it be known this is just the beginning.

When those eyes flutter down to no more than slits, he drops to his knees, and spreading her legs apart, he slides his hands up and down where no man has ever been before. “Look at me, Brienne,” he insists. He wants her to see it, wants to see it in her eyes. When she obliges him, he thrusts his face into her mound, takes in, with relish, her luscious scent not unlike a bee hungrily drinking in the aroma of his delicious meal.

He draws away, kisses the inside of her thighs, presses his teeth to her delicate skin, nibbles away when he cannot hold back anymore. A shiver, a tremor, her fingers raking wildly through his hair—he wants it all, he wants more of all. He inches closer to her need, then backs away, and when she pulls his head back in, he decides to rid her of her torture.

But in the way he pleases, in the way that would please her, because this is the way.

Gently, he nuzzles against her, rubbing his nose back and forth the length of her slit, taking her swollen nub between his lips, then letting go just to evoke her sharp cry of need. He gets closer again, but stops before touching her, pauses to bathe her arousal with his warm breath. 

“Gods, please,” she begs, her desperate fingernails carving a path through his scalp.

“I’m not one of the gods you worship,” he hoarsely replies, hovering over her, holding back to see how long she’d sustain.

“Jaime—” 

The sound of it leaving her lips like that knocks him down, and he succumbs, licking his way up the edges of her glistening folds until he reaches her throbbing bud. 

“Yes,” she whimpers, when he presses down on it. 

He flicks away, sucks her until she’s engorged beyond she can take it, and she moans, squirms in ecstasy, squeezing his head with her strong legs. His stump wrapped around her thigh, he inches his good hand up to her waiting breasts, caressing her, massaging them, one then the other, every twirl of her nipple, every caress, every squeeze meeting the rhythm of his tongue ravaging her honeyed sweetness.

He slides up and down her slick opening, lets her warmth wash over his tongue, and as his strokes get more frantic, as he gets her closer, she thrusts into him, shuddering, gasping, writhing.

_Yes, this is the way._

He wants her to cry out his name, and she does. He wants her to lose control, to let go of the possession of her body and hand herself to him, to trust him with it and dissolve into raptures of pleasure.

And when she does, she’s a wriggling writhing mess, her sweat-bathed body sliding down into his arms as she climaxes in his mouth.

Barely able to stand still, she looks him in the eye, tells him she wants him. He takes her hand and leads her to the bed. He’d give himself to her, give her all he has. _Yes, this is the way,_ his eyes tell her, encouraging her to go on when her shaking fingers hesitate to uncover his need. His cock springs up when his pants hit the foot of the bed, and when they lie on the cool smoothness of the bed, their bodies entwined, mouths brought together by their heated passion, they’re one person. Complete.

 _Just the way it should be._

His fingers float down to her breasts as he presses closer. He can feel her heart beating against his, and he can feel her feel his twitching cock yearning to be where it’s meant to be. 

_Oh fuck, yes, this is the way..._

He nudges her legs apart with his, edges his cock against her dripping folds, teasing her, easing her off any discomfort she might be apprehensive of. He deepens the kiss, devours her one more time before pulling away to meet her blazing gaze. _Trust me,_ he implores with his eyes, and she believes, pushes back into his kiss with a fervour, a need that shows him the way, urges him to go all the way.

She’s wet, yet, tight, and he lingers around her entrance, tentative, taking his time. One deep thrust will get him a massive step closer to his pleasure, but this is not the way.

“Jaime,” she says huskily, her hands caressing his back, sliding down to cup his ass.

That sweet sound of her voice and the longing with which she lets the word roll down her lips does the trick again. With one thrust, he breaches her. With one kiss, he soothes away her gasp, calms down the tremors on her lips. With a gentle whisper of her name, he stops mid-way the stream of sweat escaping down her neck, the taste of her salty skin leaving him hot as hell and thirsting for more.

For one precious moment, he stays like that, wrapped around her, buried deep within her.

Her name on his lips, searing into her burning skin. Once. Twice. And again.

This is the way. This is life.

He pulls out, then dives in again, sinking to the hilt into her burning softness. She moans in delight, and he swoops down to scoop it up in a kiss. He wants to feel her everywhere, to feel all of her, just the way it’s meant to be. When her needy hands stroke down his chest, he drags his down between them to where she needs him.

 _“Oh,”_ she sighs, when he works his way towards a slowly rising pace, when he presses down on her to take her on another journey towards oblivion. 

She jerks up to meet him thrust for thrust, her breathing hot and heavy, her roaming hands plundering whatever bit of him they can get to. 

Him for her. Her for him. This is the way.

Beads of sweat dripping off his face and down to her breasts, he drives into her. Her arms wrapped around him, she whimpers, demanding for him to give it all to her, her fingernails clawing down his back, pressing, digging into his flesh, leaving burning streaks all over him.

This pain. Such sweet pain this is.

 _Harder,_ she eggs him on, when his balls ram into her hips, a sound so seductive as her needy rasps and her feral grunts never to have graced his ears before. Her frantic breathing and her raging spasms tell him she’s close, her body begging him not to stop, to go faster. His kisses no longer in his control, he tugs hard at her bottom lip, presses his mouth to her chin, drags down her throat, with each kiss, his fingers working her clit to a break-neck rhythm.

He hoists her higher, higher, up into the skies, up where he’s racing along to join her. Her strained screams join them, as do his hoarse chants of her name, and together, they hurtle towards their destination, blinded by lust, the need for each other.

She’s the first to be blown away—a mix of incoherent sounds with his name hidden somewhere in there, she’s bliss herself.

When she slides her hands up his stomach, gently twirls her fingertips around his damp chest hair, he can feel his cock pulsate with utmost certainty. Her inviting kiss tells him she feels it, too. His need to come undone, his agony, he can feel in her, in the way she takes in every stroke, and when he lets go, she is his bliss, when he explodes into a thousand tiny pieces, every part of him belongs to her.

_Heart and soul. Body and mind._

_I am hers and she is mine._

_This is the way._

Exhausted, they fall back together, take a few moments to let this sink in, and when their breathing has calmed down into a steady rhythm, when the tremors have ceased and the shivers have moved away, he scoops her back into his arms. “Come dawn, I wish to speak to father,” he says. “If you’ll have me.” 

“You can have anyone you want.” The glow recedes from her face. “What will you say if your father objects to you marrying an—”

Jaime stops her with a kiss. “I’ll tell him this is the way if he wants me to be the man I was born to be. If he wants his future lord of Casterly Rock, I’m sure he’ll have better sense than to stand in my way.” He pulls back to tell those lovely eyes how much he loves her. “My lady—”

“Of course, I will,” she says before he can finish, her radiant smile flooded with her affection for him. 

_This is the way_ , he wholeheartedly surrenders to this belief when they share another lingering kiss. Tonight, his heart has guided him well.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been out of touch with smut for a while, so here's one more for practice. Thank you for reading and tell me how it was!


End file.
